


‘i can still feel his breathing on the back of my neck’

by roombaa



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: He needs more love, Hurt!Mordred, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective!Arthur, Rape, Scruffy is not okay, arthur is a good dad, this is about Mordred btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roombaa/pseuds/roombaa
Summary: It was Mordred’s turn to go on patrol through the woods. Who knew it would change his life forever.





	‘i can still feel his breathing on the back of my neck’

Mordred must have laid in his bed for what felt like hours, even after he had woken up. He finally forced himself up once he realized he couldn’t be late for training.

Hot coals were shoveled into each part of his body when he moved, stoking the raging fires burning inside of him. His muscles were crackling painfully from the strain of him getting up. His bones were like lead, barley holding under his weight. Not that he had much of that, apparently. 

He wrestled on a fresh tunic and pants, discarding his old ones, which he had fallen asleep in. They were ripped and smeared with mud. He had been too exhausted to even change. He would have to burn those clothes later.

Mordred hurried out of his room, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He wished he had time to bathe, but knew it would have to wait. 

“There he is!” Gwaine said when he saw the boy skittering down the hall. “It’s about time!” He clapped him on the back once he was close enough.

“I didn’t ever think you could be late.” Percival said. “You’re always coming so early.”

Mordred laughed. Oh god, it hurt when he laughed.

“I just woke up late!”

“So you had no time to wash up, eh?”  
Elyan said, picking a few leaves out of Mordred’s wild hair.

“I did not!”

“What were you doing, rolling around in leaves?” Leon asked.

“Perhaps.”

“Remember that he’s a forest baby.” Gwaine chortled.

Mordred tried to act as natural as possible, hoping that he didn’t show the pain on his face. His stomach was cramping horribly, his insides tied in knots. It made him feel so sick, but he didn’t want to excuse himself. He didn’t know how to explain how he felt, even though it probably wouldn’t be that hard.

“Hellooo?” 

Leon was waving a hand in front of the boy’s face. Mordred blinked.

“Huh?” 

“You’re back! You were dozing off.” 

“Oh, I was? Sorry!”

The knights began to slip on their chainmail for training. Mordred was fumbling with his set, struggling to get the armor on using his weak arms. Something inside of him was tingling, making his limbs feel fuzzy and numb. Strong hands pulling on his armor made him jump.

“There you go.” Percival said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Having a tough time, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mordred laughed slightly. “I guess I’m still just waking up!” 

“That’s okay! Just make sure you’re awake whenever we go into battle.”

Percival could tell something was wrong, though. Mordred was like a baby brother to all the knights, so it became easy to memorize how he usually acted and what his mannerisms were. Here, he was pale and ashen, face the color of dead leaves. His eyes held pain and anxiety. Percival had noticed this with ease, but didn’t point it out to put that stress on Mordred with everyone around. Still, he was worried and would keep an eye on the boy while training.

———

Arthur gazed over the knights, Gwaine at his side, who he had called over.

“Gwaine,” He started slowly. “Did Mordred just start crying when he got onto his horse?”

———

A few days had passed and Mordred seemed to be digging his grave, his self-esteem in the ground, drilling far past rock bottom. He still went out to his favorite places during any free time, the library and the stables, but also hid out in his room, curled up under his blankets.

The knights took notice in his change and it made them nervous. Leon had walked into the stables one day to find Mordred weeping into the mane of his horse. When he looked up, his tear-stained face said he didn’t want to explain, so Leon didn’t ask. He told the others, though. 

It was dusk and Mordred was sitting by the fireplace. He was lost in the flames, eyes glazed over with his fantasies. The cracking and popping of the warm inferno almost soothed his buzzing ears.

Then he felt hands go around his neck.

Mordred jolted, lurching up to his feet, knocking over the chair he had been sitting in with his violent motions. He whirled on his heels with narrowed eyes that were bright with panic.

Merlin reeled back, raising his hands in the air. Carefully, to not startle the boy, he said:

“My apologies, Mordred. I was just trying to get your cape off, not scare you out of your skin.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Mordred replied, his breath drawn in. “I can do it myself. You’re Arthur’s servant, not mine. I can take my own cape off.”

He did just that to prove it to Merlin. But it was hard to pull apart the button with how badly his hands shook. His trembling fingers were taken by Merlin’s larger ones and he tore away like he had touched fire.

“Don’t touch me!” He hissed out through gritted teeth. His voice was quickly drained from its anger, left weak and scared. “Please don’t touch me...”

“Alright,” Merlin breathed, stepping back. “I’m sorry.”

Mordred swallowed thickly and looked around. A few maids were staring, but quickly went back to work when they were caught.

“No, I’m sorry.” Mordred murmured. “I just really, /really/ don’t want to be touched..”

“Okay, okay.” Merlin said.

Mordred nodded and hurried away quickly. He was a mess and it was becoming very obvious. During his trek back to his room, he made up his mind. He would talk to someone the next day.

———

Mordred’s fist hovered over the oak door and, for the sixth time, he failed to knock.

When Dawn’s fingers had grasped the horizon, bathing Camelot in warm gradients of golden and crimson, he knew he had to get up. And getting out of bed was as painful as usual, even after the days that had passed. He felt swollen from head to toe, the ache greater than it had been the day of. He needed something to soothe his tense muscles, so that’s why he went to the tower.

Mordred took a deep breath and connected his knuckles with the door, silently praying that no one would answer.

“Come in.”

He cursed under his breath before peeking inside, noticing Gaius at his table that was cluttered with books and ingredients.

“Oh, hello, Mordred. If you’re looking for Merlin, he has already left for Arthur’s cha-“

“No.”

Mordred cut him off politely.

“I came to speak with you.”

“Oh?” Gaius looked up, interested now. “About what?”

Mordred opened his mouth, only for his throat to close up. He felt like he was being strangled by an invisible noose, choking him, holding back his words. He clenched his teeth as a shock ran up his spine, shaking him to the core.

“Mordred?”

The boy practically shutting off was a sight to Gaius, and he set his stuff down to go check on him.

“Could this possibly be about sleep? You look like you haven’t had a good rest in awhile.”

“N-no.”

Mordred could finally breathe and he inhaled sharply, regaining his voice.

“Actually, I think I’m fine! Sorry for bothering you!”

“Oh no,” 

Gaius caught the boy by the arm.

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

He got no response.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Mordred.”

Slowly, Mordred raised his eyes to look at Gaius. He flinched when the old man’s bony hand pressed against his forehead.

“You’re running a fever.” Gaius said.

“I’m fine.”

“Sit down, Mordred. /Now/.”

The firm tone made Mordred park himself on the bench at the table. He wrung his hands through his tunic to help try and ease his anxiety. Gaius’ slim fingers grasped at one of his wrists, trying to lift up his sleeve. He flinched.

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“I’m checking your pulse.”

“Can’t you just check from my neck or chest?”

“Let me do my work.”

Mordred protested and tried to pull away the whole time as Gaius rolled up his sleeves.

Then, they both went quiet.

Gaius’ breath caught in his throat at the sight of the dark bruises around the boy’s wrists.

“Mordred,” He muttered. “What are these?”

“N-nothing.” Mordred answered, sounding like he was about to cry.

Gaius checked the other arm and the marks were there, too.

“What did this to you?”

“Nothing.” 

“Something had to have done this.”

“I-it was me! I did it.”

A few tears slipped out of his eyes. He wasn’t looking at Gaius, his head turned away to study the wall. His lips were quivering, making him look like a kicked puppy.

“You did this?”

“Y-yes. I did.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow.

“How?” 

Mordred sniffled and took a few shaky breaths before telling the story:

“I-I was out with Whispers and fell off her back. My wrists got caught in her reins, s-so it skinned them and the force of falling off seemed to cause b-bruises. Th-that’s all.”

He was never a good liar. That boy always felt guilty when he didn’t tell the truth and usually always blurted it out. Mixed with how he was crying, it was hard to believe his statement.

“Don’t lie to me, Mordred. Tell me what happened.”

The boy jumped up, evading Gaius’ hand when he tried to touch. He shook his head wildly, stepping back.

The old man could tell a panic attack was coming on. He saw how his patient’s chest heaved and breathing become rapid.

“Mordred-“

He whirled around and ran out the door before Gaius could finish his sentence.

“Mordred!”

———

The pale rays of sunlight were leaking into the halls of the castle, lifting up the path Guin and Merlin were walking down. The servant was holding a bundle of his lord’s freshly washed clothing.

They were speaking with each other when Gaius came hurrying down the hall. It was actually funny to see the old man running.

“Gaius!” Merlin laughed. “I didn’t think you could run anymore!”

“Drop everything Arthur is making you do.” Gaius said, disregarding the comment the servant made. “I need you to help me look for Mordred.”

“Huh? Why?”

“He has a fever. He ran out when we were speaking; I believe he may be having a panic attack.”

“That’s terrible.” Guin said. “I’ll help you look.”

Gaius thanked them both when they agreed and they broke off to look through the castle.

Guin and Merlin ended up stumbling upon the boy, who was collapsed on the floor.

“There!”

Guin hurried over to Mordred, Merlin hot on her heels, and she crouched down, lifting the boy’s torso above the ground.

“Mordred?” She called out, shaking him gently. Her hands felt his forehead and she winced. “He’s burning up.. Merlin, go find Gaius!”

Merlin nodded and quickly ran off down the hall.

———

Mordred was bathed before being put in bed by Gaius’ command. He told the maids to tell him in secret anything they found on his body. He was informed about dark purple ringing his ankles, discolored marks on his neck and thighs, bruises on his chest, and scratches all down his back. This made the old man’s stomach drop.

Arthur, Guin, and Merlin were all in the room. Guin was holding a cold, wet rag to the feverish boy’s forehead.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Arthur asked.

“It may be a cold or overexertion.” Gaius answered. He decided to leave out the wounds for now.

“He should rest for awhile. I’ll get him some things for his fever.”

Guin returned her attention back to Mordred. There was pain on the boy’s features. His eyes were shut tightly, sweat rolling down his ashen face. Other than the dark bags, his eyes were puffy and ringed with red, like he had been crying. She actually remembered seeing streaks from tears on his cheeks when she found him. She wanted to know why he had ran out while speaking to Gaius and why he was crying, but knew questions had to wait.

Gaius peered down at Mordred again before sighing softly. He brushed some hair out of his face with a finger before turning and walking out. 

Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances before looking back at the bed.

“The maids will take care of him, Guin.” Arthur said.

“I know.”

Guin kept her eyes on Mordred for a moment before folding the rag over his forehead and standing up. She and the other two then left the room quietly.

———

The vivid fever dreams were alive, even when his eyes were open. The maids often found him twitching in his bed or just staring at the wall in his daze when he was awake.

But only he knew about the things that haunted his mind. It was a heavy though in his head, like a ball and chain weighing him down.

He was a mess, he knew this.

Could he be blamed, though?

~~~

Mordred awoke with a groan, feeling a dull throb in the side of his head. He blinks a few times and tries to rub his eyes, only to realize his wrists were bound by ropes. They were tied together above his head, the binds around a tree. His ankles were in the same state, but they were pulled apart. He was also hit with the fact that he was stark naked. 

Adrenaline poured into his veins and he began to struggle, yelling for help.

“Oh, he’s awake.~”

Two people, a man and a woman, approached the boy. They looked crazy, smiling way too wide with a wild look in their eyes.

“You’ve been out for hours,” The woman said. “I tried to wake you up myself, but you were out cold from that rock. Doesn’t mean I didn’t keep trying.~” She licked her lips and Mordred shuddered. “I’m glad you’re awake. We can have much more fun now, since you can give a reaction!~”

“S-stay away from me!”

Mordred could hear the shake in his voice as he was approached. He squirmed, yelling in protest as the top of his head was grabbed by the man.

“Let go! Get away!!”

The ropes around his ankles were cut, letting the man flip him over onto his stomach, twisting his arms into an uncomfortable position. He was screaming at this point, begging to be let go.

A searing pain burned through his stomach, clogging his breath, silencing him. Tears were scalding down his cheeks, mouth gaping open as his body was rocked violently. He couldn’t breathe, lungs straining horribly. Nails were digging into his back, hooking deep into his skin. He was staring to go numb from the waist down, but his arms were still very much awake, hands clawing at the dirt. His screeching shook the woods.

Maybe he blacked out. He didn’t know how long it went on. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. His face was in the dirt, dribbling saliva and dirty semen. The ropes as been cut so he could be flipped in different positions. The man on him grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head. He could feel his hot breath on his ringing ears. He was calling him things, but he couldn’t tell what they were.

Then, Mordred was released and the invader under his skin pulled out. He could finally breathe, wheezing from the pain. 

His attackers were laughing, delivering a few kicks to his limp body before leaving him. 

He curled into the fetal position, sobbing silently into his knees. He felt like he was leaking from all over, which was probably true. His insides were rearranged messily. 

Fall leaves crunching made him stir and he was relieved to see his beautiful dapple grey mare galloping through the trees.

“Whispers,” He croaked weakly. “Here girl..”

The horse slowed down once she was at the boy’s side and nuzzled him with her snout. He gently stroked her head before covering his mouth and coughing weakly. His head returned to the ground. 

Whispers circles around Mordred, nudging him and whinnying. When she realized he wasn’t getting up, she slowly laid down beside him. 

Mordred pulled his weak, throbbing body over to the horse and curled up against her. She was so warm. He cried into her fur, waiting for the sobs to go away; waiting to wake up finally from this nightmare. 

It couldn’t be real, he told himself. 

But wait... You can’t feel pain in your dreams.

~~~

Mordred jolted up, his eyes bulging in their sockets. Cold sweat trickled down his face and the back of his neck.

It was dusk, the rays of twilight bleeding in through his open window. Dinner would be going on.

Mordred threw himself from his bed, pulling on a fresh shirt, but kept his sleeping pants on. His hair was a mess, crisping brown curls like petals of a wildflower, but he doesn’t stop to fix his mane. He only pauses for a quill.

Then, he hurried from his room, forgetting shoes and buttoning his buttons in the wrong spot. He sure was a sight in the dining hall showing up like that, very underdressed during that fancy supper. Not many people stared, luckily, so his trek over to the largest table wasn’t that hard.

“Mordred!” Arthur said, gazing over at the boy who had approached him. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. How are you feeling?”

“Still a bit dizzy, but I’m doing better than before.” Mordred answered. He then turned his head to look around.

The dining room was always one of his favorite spots in the castle. During the day, it was bare, but at night the hall was alit. The torches casted glowing across the walls, sweet smelling candles crackling on the tables. Servants and maids gracefully weaved past each other to serve the grand, divine-smelling foods. He wished he could see it. Tunnel vision was edging his vision.

He turned his head back to Arthur and smiled politely.

“May I sit?”

“Of course!”

The prince usually had Guin or his closer knights sitting beside him, but he couldn’t get himself to turn down Mordred while he was in such a weak state. The boy had a glint in his eyes that he couldn’t say no to.

After Mordred sat, Arthur waved a hand for the maids to bring him his own plate for dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, he say Mordred write something down on a napkin.

[Hi.]

Arthur raised an eyebrow, giving him a confused, odd look. Mordred insisted with his eyes, so Arthur obliged.

[Hello.]

[Do you remember when I came back very late? Maybe a week ago?]

[I do.]

[Do you know why I was so late?]

[No.]

Mordred put the quill down and just stared at the response for a moment. With a bout of courage, he picked the quill back up.

[I was assaulted.]

He gave a pause and scratched out the last word, replacing it with another.

[Raped.]

Arthur held the quill with frozen fingers, staring at that single word that shattered all reality.

Then he snapped up to his feet, grabbing his knight by the arm and pulling him out of the dining hall.

“Are you serious?”

Mordred’s back was pressed to the wall and he felt like he was trapped. His mouth opened to speak, but he couldn’t, so he just nodded. Tears began to simmer in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The scalding tears overflowed, oozing from his eyes like molten streams of lava. His bottom lip quivered and he turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to see Arthur’s reaction to him crying. All that courage he had was gone. He felt so humiliated.

After taking many shaking breaths, he thought he could answer:

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

He winced.

“I thought I would be laughed at.”

“Laughed at?!”

The tone of Arthur’s voice made Mordred flinch and he recoiled back.

“Mordred you were /raped/!”

He didn’t like that Arthur was yelling. It was like he was trying to let the whole castle know his secret. Luckily, Arthur seemed to realize what he was doing and he shut his mouth.

“When do you ever hear of a boy being raped, huh?”

The words broke free and began to spill from his lips. There were so many things he had choked back for so long and he knew he couldn’t stop once he had started.

“I should have been able to defend myself. I should have pushed them away from me and-“

“There were more than one?”

Mordred swallowed thickly.

“Th-there were two. The woman did something to me while I was a-asleep and I thought that s-since I’m a boy, I-I should have liked it.”

He took a shuddering breath.

“And then the man, he-“ 

He couldn’t go on much longer. 

A sob shook him painfully as the memories came flooding back. He felt every bruise, every scratch, every single time the man jabbed his insides.

“H-he..he just g-got onto me and f-forced himself inside of me. I-I felt like I was being tore open; I-I couldn’t breathe! I-it hurt so much..! But I should have fought back! I am a /knight/, b-but I did nothing a-and-“

He couldn’t speak anymore. He broke down crying, hugging himself tightly as he was shaken violently.

The feeling of arms wrapping around him took him by surprise and he flinched.

“Easy.” Arthur said.

The prince was both shocked and disgusted by what he heard. He knew there were gross, cruel people out there, but never even thought of this ever happening, let alone to one of his knights. He would have to admit though, Mordred had guts for sharing all of that and baring so much pain.

In his arms, Mordred was still shuddering and crying. On the inside, Mordred sobbed “I don’t want to cry like this! I want to stop crying right now!” But no matter how hard he squeezed his shoulders, the shaking would not stop. Mordred simply could not cover up his pain. He was seizing out of control in the prince’s arms, who could just watch with wide eyes.

“Hey,” Arthur said as gently as possible. “You need to calm down. It’s okay now.”

He was never good at comforting and that showed in the moment. His words were not working; they weren’t reaching his knight’s ears.

Mordred’s face was going blue from the lack of air as his panic attack worsened. His nails dug sharply into Arthur’s shoulders, bypassing his sleeves completely. He was falling apart into pieces.

“Arthur?”

Their rope ladder was dropped from heaven.

Elyan looked out from the dining hall and hurried over when he saw the state Mordred was in.

“What’s going on?” 

“He’s hyperventilating.” Arthur answered and curses when Mordred’s legs gave out underneath him. Luckily, Elyan swooped in and helped support the younger knight. He eased him to the floor, against the wall.

“Why? Is he okay?”

“I’ll explain later.” Arthur said, standing swiftly. “I’m going to go get Gaius. Watch him.”

With that, he hurried down the hall and to the tower.

Elyan crouched down next to Mordred, gently rubbing one of his arms. He didn’t quite know what to do either, since this was the first time he was ever faced with a knight having an anxiety attack. What he did know was that someone had hurt him; hurt him badly.

“Breathe Mordred.” He murmured. “Breathe.”

That’s the last thing Mordred heard before his vision swam.

———

Rain was pounding on the window, coming down from the sea-dark sky in heavy sheets. The wind was howling, whirlwinds whisking notes of gale throughout the storm.

The room was dark, only lit by occasional lightning and a single candle that wafted a sweet scent by the bed.

Mordred laid there, unmoving, face buried in his pillow. He couldn’t believe what he had done. The whole castle had to have known by now. 

The candle popped and flared, hissing when he murmured for it to stop. His magic was always spontaneous during moments like these and he felt stupid for not being able to control it. He hoped he wouldn’t accidentally burn the whole castle down. He already caused enough problems.

When lighting flashed and thunder rumbled, he threw his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. Unlike last time, he strode out of his room without changing from his sleepwear. 

The heavy rain felt like arrows in his skin when he stepped outside, but it also soothed him in a weird way. He was soaked within a few seconds of being outside, the unforgiving wind chilling him to the bone. But he liked it. The storm’s tears felt nice on his sunburnt, scraped skin.

He was crying, maybe. He couldn’t tell with the rain on his face. Starbursts and grains of color flirted across his vision. Was he dying? It almost felt like it. 

His head tilted up towards the sky and he stared, praying for any god to smite him now. Anything would be better than living with what he was going through. 

But his prayers were not answered.

“Mordred?” 

He almost missed his name over the thunder and rain pelting down. 

Arthur was standing a few feet away, his eyebrows knitted together like the clouds in the sky.

“How many people did you tell? Don’t sugarcoat anything for me. Just tell me the truth. How many people are going to laugh?” 

“Laugh? Mordred this is no joke. Nobody is going to laugh at you.” 

His words were left hanging in the air with no response.

“Nobody is going to see you differently or think you’re disgusting or somebody new. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“Sire, you don’t understand!”

Mordred turned around sharply, but Arthur didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back or retreat inside. He stayed.

“I know,” Arthur said, making his voice more gentle. “I don’t understand and I’m not going to act like I know what you’re going though. But I’m here to help and I need you to listen to me. Did you give consent?”

“Sire-“

“Did you give consent?” Arthur’s voice was much firmer and it seemed to get his point through because Mordred shook his head. “See. There’s nothing bad anyone could say about you. You didn’t want that.” 

Mordred nodded, feeling a fresh set of tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t know how his body was still able to produce them after how much he had cried. 

“Are you okay?” 

Arthur finally asked the question. He already knew the answer, but it had to be said.

“N-no,” Mordred laughed to try and ward off the pain. “Not really.”

“Come here.” 

Arthur opened his arms and Mordred was very hesitant, but obliged. The embrace he was held in was loose, but that didn’t stop him from pressing his face into the older man’s shoulder, weeping silently. 

Arthur just held the boy, gently combing his fingers through his messy hair. He could feel how badly he was shaking, but didn’t know if that was from the pain or bitter wind. Either way, they would have to get inside soon.

Finally, Mordred’s breathing steadied out and he stepped back, thanking Arthur. He didn’t know how badly he needed that until that moment.

“Come on,” Arthur said gently. “Let’s get inside.”

Both of them were given new clothes and a blanket once they were back in the castle. Mordred sat by the fireplace with a mug of hot tea, staring into the flames. He finally turned his head to look at Merlin, Guin, Arthur, Gaius, and all the knights and opened his mouth to tell them all what happened.


End file.
